


'Tis the season

by ChelseaMouse



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Prompt Fic, Secret Saito 2016, Stockings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:33:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8890831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelseaMouse/pseuds/ChelseaMouse
Summary: "How the hell did you managed to get kicked out of our hotel room?"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beginningwithA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beginningwithA/gifts).



> It is probably worth mentioning that this is the first Inception fic I've ever written, although I read quite a lot... please let me know what you think :)

"Sir, may I ask you what are you doing?"

"Alfred, my mate! I am decorating the place, obviously."

Alfred sighed the sigh of the long suffering. "Sir, we already had this conversation. My actual name is Howard, and you can't decorate the rooms of this hotel. It's against the company policy."

Eames looked like a kicked puppy. "Alfred, dear friend, I believe you don't understand. I am going to meet with my boyfriend in a few hours. He would probably use a different expression, like partner or lover, but the concept is that we spent ten weeks separated, for job-related reasons, and now we have the chance to see each other and Christmas is in a week! I can't have the place look like a hotel room, it would be terrible!"

"Then you should maybe have thought of it before booking a hotel room. Sir."

"It's for *Christmas*, Alfred. Christ Almighty, you sound like you don't even care!"

"Sir, for the last time, put. away. the decorations. I was granted permission to use any means necessary to ensure the room would stay pristine."

"Oh, yeah? Well, tough luck. I am going to decorate this place, wether you want it or not."

\---

"How the hell did you managed to get kicked out of our hotel room? We booked the place ages ago. We paid real, actual money for it. You were there for only five hours before I arrived, Eames!"

"Pet, I am devastatingly sorry. If it makes you feel better, the place was abominable."

"It doesn't, really. It was a perfectly fine hotel, I've been there before. We were lucky we even found something decent elsewhere..."

"But they would not let me decorate our room!"

"Ah. Could that be the reason behind the tinsel in your hair?"

"... maybe."

"And the fake snow on your shirt."

"Possibly."

"Is there something else I should know?"

"I didn't really have a place for our Christmas stockings, so I put them on."

"What?!"

Eames gestured vaguely at his trousers, reaching for a leg to pull up the hem and show what he meant. Arthur blinked for a couple of seconds before he reacted.

"Those aren't Christmas stockings."

"Well, they are red. With little snowmen. And upper on the leg they have this delightful tiny bows..."

"Those aren't Christmas stockings." Arthur repeated. "Those are, in fact, just stockings. Women stockings."

"But festive ones!"

"Women stockings, Eames."

"Ah, but nonetheless full of your most desired presents!"

"Your puns are terrible."

"You are taking your clothes off, so I guess they work just fine..."

\---

"Looks like Father Christmas came in early this year."

Arthur snorted inelegantly. "You never did put up the stockings."

"But they already are in the right place, sugarplum."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you put them on the headboard of your bed, right? They are at the foot, right now, but I'm sure it's close enough for Santa."

"Wait, you put Christmas stockings, where supposedly Santa is going to leave all his presents during the night, next to a child's bed?!"

"You make it sound dirty..."

"It is! And creepy. We are never ever celebrating a traditional british Christmas."

"But you seemed to appreciate this one a lot. At least twice in the past hour!"

"Go to sleep, mr. Eames."

"Merry Christmas, darling."


End file.
